


Imperfect

by Grumpyhugs



Series: Of Shield and Lance [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.1 spoilers now included, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Basically what I can't work in to Light Lost for Erevard, But this is mostly MY WoL and Emet stuff, Dark Knight | DRK (Final Fantasy XIV), Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gonna be a huge dump of one shots and stuff, I have no idea what I'm going to put in here but there will be t h i n g s, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), May get a rating bump soon, Mildly Possessive Behavior, Multi, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Rating will more than likely change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2020-08-13 03:30:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20167438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grumpyhugs/pseuds/Grumpyhugs
Summary: Collection of drabbles/oneshots featuring our beloved Ascian sad boy and my WoL, Erevard. Angst, fluff, AU stuff and all sorts of stuff we all need after the gut-punch that was Shadowbringers happened. Length will vary between each oneshot; some of this is practice in writing shorter stuff.





	1. Emet-Selch + Elidibus (Confrontation)

**Author's Note:**

> Emet-Selch confronts Elidibus on just who their big Light problem really is.

"Pray tell me,  _ dearest _ Emissary, why you saw fit to hide who exactly our little Light problem  _ really _ was?"

Emet-Selch's sudden intrusion was akin to having a door slammed open in Elidibus' face. He silently cursed this body, he should have been able to sense the teleportation immediately-

"I played my part. I  _ welcomed  _ death, Elidibus. And you wake me up, telling me you and Lahabrea had been fumbling about because of some  _ mortal _ nuisance…"

Emet-Selch closed the distance between them, taking agonizingly slow steps, his face contorting into pure rage. His aether had begun to match his barely-contained growing fury. Dark tendrils began to grow around his form, his red mask lighting up upon his face. 

Elidibus had been subject to the other man's temper before, and yet, he had not expected this reaction from him. "It was necessary. That abomination is not our-"

Emet-Selch  _ snarled,  _ " _ It is.  _ Do not dare play me for a fool, Emissary. I am not so weak that I cannot see that soul, fragmented as it is." The man stood but inches from his own body, and even though Zenos was much larger than Solus, Emet-Selch's entire being was pressing against his. Darkness had begun to wrap around the room, caging him within. 

"How long have I searched for that soul, only to find it as  _ Her  _ champion?"

Elidibus could not exert his own aether so strongly in this body, he  _ was _ trapped and Emet-Selch knew it. 

The other man continued his attack, teeth bared and eyes wild with anger, "Tell me  _ why _ , you of all people thought it would be appropriate to refrain from telling me who the blasted Warrior of Light really was, hm?"

The anger was now accentuated with that mocking, smug tone Emet-Selch always spoke with. Elidibus had never told him how annoying it was; but he'd figured it out anyway.

With a heavy exhale and gentle nudge of what aether he could use in this form, in a gentle  _ calm down _ push, "I did not think it would bother you so." 

It didn't work, the Dark in the room surged again- "That  _ thing _ is Hydaelyn's chosen, it will never again be  _ him _ , Emet-Selch. You must understand this."

Realization struck the other man, his body and soul retracting into confusion, the Dark withdrawing to wrap around himself protectively now, and Elidibus continued, "I would have spared you seeing what became of him, but I digress… Perhaps it was foolish not to tell you."

Emet-Selch looked up at him, his eyes full of pain and worry now, he whirled away from him and took a few steps away. Elidibus did not need to look at his soul to see what the man was feeling:  _ embarrassment _ . Resignation.

He couldn't really blame the man. Emet-Selch had always been attached to  _ him. _ Hells, Elidibus still didn't truly know what their relationship was outside of when he saw them at work. And at work, it was painfully obvious they were sweet on each other. The question was, how far did it  _ really  _ go? And yet, he now felt he had that answer with this little display of… weakness. 

This would complicate things further. Lahabrea was always butting heads even when they were Council members with  _ him _ ; it was a little wonder that Lahabrea lost even now, some things just didn't change. Lahabrea had been fairly predictable, but what would Emet-Selch do?

"Even if  _ he  _ knew what we do…? You think he would still champion Her?" All fight had drained out of the man's tone, and he spoke with his back facing Elidibus. His shoulders hunched, and Elidibus watched his gloved hand rise to his face - to wipe away tears, perhaps? How pathetic.

This was a question he'd asked himself once, too. But after seeing the man's resolve to fight for the wretched things that now walked the world… " _ He  _ is tied to Her, just as we are tied to Zodiark, Emet-Selch. You know the answer, even if we were to wish it so… We champion opposing Gods." He shook his head, there was no point in hiding his own disappointment. Theirs was a lonely existence, and he would be lying if he said he would not welcome someone such as  _ he _ to rejoin them. He pitied Emet-Selch; he and Lahabrea both had the time to adjust to this revelation. When  _ he  _ had first reappeared and been but a fledgling adventurer merely poking the occasional hole in their plans, they were annoyed. And then  _ he  _ only grew, and grew in power and status; being named  _ Warrior of Light _ after slaying Lahabrea. 

It was then, that Elidibus knew that their long-lost council member was going to be a very serious problem. It was then, that he'd asked himself that same question.

And it was now that he said it, he knew it would never happen. 

Emet-Selch had still not turned to face him. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fireplace - a chance that Emet-Selch had caught him in the Prince's personal chambers, far from the eyes of Varis. Would Emet-Selch confront him with an audience, he wondered.

"I think I would like to try. Perhaps  _ he  _ will surprise me." The heavy silence finally broken, and the smug, amused tone was back. " _ He's _ gone to the First, you know." Emet-Selch turned, wearing a grin and running the hand from earlier through his hair. 

Elidibus nodded.

"Then I shall return anon, dear Emissary." He flashed him another amused smirk, and with a loud  _ snap  _ of his fingers, disappeared in a flash of Darkness. 

"We shall see," said Elidibus.

  
  
  



	2. Emet-Selch (about WoL)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was going to be some quick one shots since I can't fit Emet + Erevard content into Light Lost buuuutttt, fuck it we're going to go AU here and it's going to turn into some semblance of a story. HERE WE GOOoooo

He got it wrong. 

Again.

Every single attempt to recreate  _ him _ had turned out  _ wrong. _

There was always something that was just a little bit off. No matter how hard he concentrated, no matter which memory he pulled from, nor how perfect the image in his mind was before he set his magic to work-

It was always  _ wrong _ .

It frustrated him.

Sometimes it was  _ his  _ hair. Or,  _ his _ eyes would be the wrong colour. Sometimes it would be  _ his  _ height, which was utterly ridiculous as  _ all  _ of their people were of matching height, or damn near close.

Sometimes it was more than a mild annoyance. The poor copy would sneer at him, disgust and hate and contempt over it's features. Worse was when Emet-Selch had tried to give it speech, the copy had said things that made sense for the abomination that Championed Her; but not the real  _ him.  _

_ "Ascians cannot be suffered to live. You destroy everything you touch. You're monsters. The Light will destroy Zodiark. I'll destroy your very soul, like I did Lahabrea-" _

With another snap of his fingers, the shade would dissipate back into aether; and he would begin anew. 

Again.

He knew why, of course. Being tempered meant Zodiark did not enjoy the thought of one of His trying to recreate His greatest enemy's Champion. It didn't matter what version of  _ him _ , either. Even though the Primal was nearly dormant, He was still very capable of exerting His will. The slightest distraction could cause uncertain results when performing Creation, afterall. Said distractions in the form of an angry Primal still furious at you for an old flame still not completely snuffed out? 

But he tried anyway. It was selfish, ridiculous, but he still… yearned. For  _ something.  _

It always started as a light brush at the back of his mind, once he would begin creating the concept. Then, when Emet-Selch would envision  _ his  _ being, standing beside him again - something would tug, ever so slightly. And as he was ready to breathe aether into the copy; the tug would turn into something  _ snapping  _ just as he too, would snap his fingers to bring  _ him  _ back.

And then, it was always wrong.

It had long stop hurting him. He knew the tempering was to thank for that, too.

Sometimes, after so many attempts and frustration having long settled into him, he made copies that were too close to that half-broken  _ thing _ that was walking around.

** _(He will never be yours again. He destroyed the world we tried to save. He destroyed everything you loved, all you held dear. Abomination of the Light!)_ **

The tugging had turned into a voice, after so many failed attempts. Zodiark was not pleased when he attempted this. This…  _ sin.  _ Even Elidibus would have disapproved of his little recreation of their once beloved Amaurot. 

Elidibus' own words concerning  _ him  _ echoed that of the voice of Zodiark. But… perhaps if the Warrior of Light knew the truth, they could sway  _ him  _ to their side?

Could he sway that half-broken  _ thing _ to his side? Find the shards of his once radiant soul, and rejoin them? 

What would  _ he  _ say to him, standing here, rejoined and whole again? Would he keep the memories of the Warrior of Light, or would it be  _ him  _ again? All the others they had pieced together; Nabriales, Iyegorhm, Logrif… There were… irregularities. They were not as they once were, back when they were truly whole. Nabriales had become a  _ brat _ in comparison to his true self. Frankly, Hades had kept his distance from his 'peers'. 

They disgusted him.

And what cruel twists would follow  _ his  _ rejoining, if it would even happen? Would  _ he  _ still champion the Light, seeing all that was lost to them? 

** _(He _ ** **destroyed the world! She will not relinquish Her hold on his soul! Kill the Warrior-)**

_ Erevard _ , was  _ his _ name. What a sick  _ joke. _

A mockery of his true name. 

And yet… Emet-Selch had been observing the man since he'd awoken and found… similarities.

Only but a few, of course, but similarities nonetheless. This was the first he’d ever seen of that soul since the Sundering of the world, oh so long ago.  _ The last he’d seen it, on the final days of Amaurot, standing tall and proud in defiance to their new God, his soul cracking and falling apart under the strain of summoning of Hydaelyn. The shimmering ocean blue fusing into Light as the soul began to- _

  
  


Erevard, small as his soul was compared to his predecessor, fought with the same fervor as he once had, hale and whole. That little fragment of him carried the very same determination, that same burning desire to always  _ help  _ those in need. Always running to the aid of those too weak to help themselves. 

A long time ago, when the world was whole, Emet-Selch openly admired that very same purpose the man carried with him. Now? It was a nuisance. More than a nuisance, really, since that purpose was now turned against his wishes; the Rejoining. 

But that was what he always was, wasn’t he? Someone who protected others, even at cost to himself.

Which is what brought those similarities to view so quickly. The man was a _Dark Knight. _A self-sacrificing profession that threw any semblance of self-defense to the wind - and instead, their very bodies were the shields they used to defend others. And yet, even as a Dark Knight, the Light was still very much a part of him. 

Moreso now that he was targeting the Lightwardens that littered the First, and  _ absorbing  _ them. 

_ Idiot.  _

It was nigh impossible for such a small soul to carry the weight of such high amounts of corrupted Light aether - and yet, this fragment was very intent on doing so. 

Well, if Erevard was going to kill himself trying to save the First, Emet-Selch could at least watch what would happen. But... What if he  _ could  _ hold the Light back? If that little, broken thing was stronger than they initially thought? Underestimating him brought Lahabrea to his death - why should he make the same mistake, then? 

No, he had the sense to watch this play out. His soul had no immediate signs of stress, yet. But what if he felled two Wardens? Three? How many would it take before the Light began to take its toll on him? 

Worse, it wasn’t like  _ Vauthry  _ was giving him a choice. That little monster had sent his pet General off to fight the forces of the Crystarium; which led to Erevard and his company seeking refuge in the kingdom of the faeries. Where another Lightwarden would be waiting, of course.

The Crystal Exarch raised too many questions, and Vauthry was becoming a problem with his little tantrums. 

Emet-Selch was patient. He will watch, for now. 

  
  
  
  
  



	3. The Obligatory kid chapter (WoL/Hades/Hythlodaeus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginnings of his love for all of life...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm seeing people use Prometheus as WoL's name but; I always followed the 'Er' for the start of my male OCs and FUCK IT I'm gonna keep doing it. Plus, his name means 'beloved' and that's close to the Persephone stuff for Fem WoL's, yeah? 
> 
> >:) 
> 
> Also I really like the idea that yes, there are a bunch of kids around but usually in batches of like, 30 or so every few decades and they do stay with their own parents. Guardians are more like their teachers and stuff, too.

Erastos was always running into situations that were not entirely befitting someone his age, nor an Amaurotine citizen. Hades had, as gently as possible - and with the utmost respect for his friend - referred to his ‘love of adventure’ as _ slightly _crazy. This was meant to try and dissuade him out of literally running off constantly, but it never worked.

The last outing with their Guardians, they had found him tangled up in some massive spider’s web, screaming for help while trying to wiggle out of it… Which resulted in him getting even more tangled. _ Thankfully _one of the Guardians was able to stop the spider from taking a bite or two of him; but he was warned not to run off too far and always be wary of his surroundings. 

That was the first time, and not the last.

It wasn’t an outing unless Erastos ran face-first into some massive critter that wanted to eat him, really. The one that really solidified the need for a buddy system was when he found a _ bear _ even larger than any adult. When asked why he ran into a cave by himself, he merely shrugged and said he wanted to see the inside. Then, of course, he found the bear and… Well, everyone else found him when his soul lit up like a firework in sheer panic and he bolted back to the meeting area with the bear chasing him.

Naturally, Hades volunteered. (After some arguing with Hythlodaeus on which may be the better of the two to watch him…) They both didn’t want to see Erastos made into a meal by some giant animal; Hades argued that maybe he could get Erastos to see the wonderful world of _ napping _.

He was never so wrong in his life.

It was like herding _ cats. _

So then Hythlodaeus was paired with them too.

It didn’t help.

The Guardians fashioned little rods for them, that, when pointed and fired at a creature, would trap them within a stasis field of sorts. It was similar to containment measures used in the Akademia Anyder when something got out that wasn’t supposed to, but they wouldn’t run into anything like that out here, so obviously it wasn’t as strong. If they trapped something, they needed to come back to their respective Guardian and they’d undo the little spell, and everyone would be fine. 

Of course, they _ could _ create their own stasis spell, which they were taught too. But, the rod was for emergencies - it took concentration and even though they were well above fifty years old, if the difference between getting hurt or not was using the rod, well… _ Use the rod _. No one was going to fault you for it.

Well, the Guardians wouldn’t. The other kids took this as a chance to make fun of poor Erastos.

They nicknamed him ‘erratic’. When Hades first heard it, he couldn’t even hold back the urge to roll his eyes at how stupid it was. It was also unnecessarily mean, too. But children are children, no matter how ancient their people were… It hurt his friend’s feelings, naturally, and it took quite a bit of coaxing from Hythlodaeus and Hades for Erastos to put up some mental shields against the other children in their group. When they’d start up, they’d immediately rush to the defense of their friend too, which always helped.

The only problem was the Guardians never seemed to _ really _try to put a stop to it. Disappointing, really…

That changed rather quickly after today’s little incident, however.

Today they were tasked with finding a small creature that they could capture themselves and bring back to their little camp; it could be anything, but they had to name what it was and try their best to Create an image of it. Simple enough, right? 

Nothing was simple with Erastos.

Hades had, for once, successfully wrangled him into taking a well-deserved rest after chasing him around for the past hour - by way of napping in the shade of a particularly large tree. The leaves were turning golden with the oncoming Fall season that their people had so carefully fabricated for the planet, and it was just _ perfect _outside. Not too warm, and the wind was brisk and the shade from the tree was just- 

_ Something _ shrieked in the distance and woke him.

And when he’d woken up Erastos was gone and Hythlodaeus was running towards him in sheer panic. 

“I turned away for a few minutes and you were ASLEEP! And he’s GONE! _ Haaaddddess _!” 

He lifted his mask gently, rubbed the fog of sleep out of his eyes and blinked a few times, before Hythlodaeus very quickly yanked him up to his feet and began dragging him along. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon! Gotta find him!” 

Still sleepy, he mumbled out,“M’tired… Wherehegooo?” There was a brief pause in the dragging where Hythlodaeus whirled around and gave him what must have been a glare, hard to tell under the masks.

His friend let out a very loud, heavy sigh and pulled his arm a little harder. 

“Ow! Okay I’m awake enough!” Hythlodaeus let go, and broke out into a full on sprint in the direction the screaming came from. A quick scan in the direction, reaching for Erastos’ familiar aether confirmed he _ was _still there, and… calmer now. 

_ Please be some little critter that spooked him. Please, please please please be a bunny or _ something _ small. _

If only it was that simple with Erastos. Little did Hades know, this was going to be the beginning of Erastos’ long and complicated inspiration for his life’s work. 

* * *

  
  


After the initial panic wore off and they had _ both _ stopped screaming, Erastos quickly realized he was looking at a _ baby. _

He wasn’t entirely sure what species it was, but it resembled him enough (under the mask,at least!) that he could safely say it wasn’t an animal. But… It’s soul was just so _ tiny. _It’s physical form even moreso! For all he knew, he was looking at a baby - but a baby that could run and stuff? Doesn’t make sense. Worse, despite having such a ridiculously small soul - he could still definitely tell what the poor thing was feeling.

The baby was looking at him, eyes wide with terror, but at least it stopped screaming now and wasn’t running away. To be fair, he stopped screaming at the same time, too. But now they were definitely examining each other, though he felt no gentle nudge of aether from the baby, which was… strange. Usually babies would at the very least, give him a little poke to let him know they were watching or waiting to interact. This one did nothing. Was there something wrong with it…? Could he help? 

Strange.

“Hello, little one…” He craned his head to the side and tried to sound as gentle as possible, remembering that one time he upset his little newborn cousin by being too loud. Gentle, cooing noises were _ exactly _what babies loved, right? 

The baby - boy, he noticed - looked at him like he had three heads. “I’m not _ that _little.” 

Erastos wasn’t really in agreeance, but babies don't usually talk that well, so… Maybe he wasn’t a baby? Just… Really, really small? He took a moment to _ really _ inspect the little soul in front of him, and while it was utterly tiny and nearly devoid of any semblance of Creation magic that his people were so attuned with, there was _ some of it _within it. 

But it was more so wrapped around his very being, than part of his soul’s core. He could poke and prod some more, but what he was already doing was a bit… invasive, and it wasn’t really fair to do this without permission... 

But what was standing in front of him? Was it a Creation running about…? That made the most sense, given his preliminary analysis, but he was only fifty years old, he could very well be wrong.

“How old are you?” Was the question he opted to ask, at the very least it was a good starting point.

The baby raised a brow, “I’m eight. How old are _ you?” _

Oh, Heavens… He WAS a baby! “I’m fifty-six...” 

The eight year old gave him a look of utter disbelief, and shook his head, “You don’t sound that old? How are you THAT old?” 

Erastos sputtered, “OLD?!” 

“Well yeah! Father is thirty-five and he doesn’t sound at all like you. You sound like a kid, too.” 

_ His father is thirty-five? Was it even possible for someone his age to have kids? They were kids. How could they have kids? What. Is. Going. On? _

This warranted a bit more investigation, then! “Well I _ am _a kid, and you should be way smaller. What are you, exactly...?” 

The other boy actually laughed a little, hiding his mouth behind his hand; and that little soul suddenly unfurled from being so tightly wound up in fear and became just a bit more relaxed. _ See! Gentle… Gentle always works. _Erastos was quite proud of himself for not making a mess of this.

  
The baby said he was something called a Hyur, and while he had begun to chat away about his family; (his father, mother and little sister - which utterly baffled Erastos as usually batches of children were separated by decades, when he asked how old their sister was, the boy said four!) Erastos set to actually examining the boy’s features. 

They definitely resembled what he looked like under his mask well enough; they could probably pass for the same species (disregarding the height of course) and most importantly - the considerable gap in magic. Those were really the two key differences that Erastos could figure out. But physically? Nearly identical aside from size. The child in front of him had black, short hair that was tied neatly into a tail at the back of his head, and had dark brown eyes alit with joy as he spoke about his little sister. He positively beamed as he spoke, his cheeks pulled high with a smile across his face; and Era noticed he had _ freckles! _ He’d never seen much of those under everyone’s masks, and you couldn’t just _ ask _if people had them… But, such adoration he had! He was chatting away about how he would give her little flowers as they wandered the lands until-

“ERA! GET DOWN!” 

He whirled in the direction the shout came from, to see Hades and Hythlodaeus burst from behind some bushes and pull out some little rods in their hands-

Wait.

Rods?

_ “NO!” _

It happened much too fast for him to realize what a horrible idea it was to try and protect the child; Hades fired the stasis tool right at the boy before Erastos could make it to him with his own magic. He had _ tried _to make a shield of sorts that would hopefully absorb the field, but… Too slow. Much too slow. What if it backfired and caused the beam to hit Hades or Hythlodaeus?

Didn’t matter now.

He looked now at the frozen child, eyes wide in terror, again, mouth open in a scream that wouldn’t come until something broke him out. Hands over his face to protect himself out of instinct… And Erastos’ all too slow shield flickering uselessly over his inanimate form.

* * *

  
  


Hades had expected to find him playing with some little animal or something. There was a moment before they found him, where he could feel Erastos’ joy. Feelings synonymous with looking at a newborn for the first time, seeing their reactions to the world, or maybe looking down at a puppy fumbling it’s way without a care in the world. Simple, pleasant feelings at looking at a being and just seeing another life be happy… 

And he quickly realized he had just made a huge mistake.

His first instinct, which was shared with Hythlodaeus, was to fire away at whatever was with their friend - safety first, questions later kinda deal. However; once Erastos had fallen to his knees by the frozen _ child, _did he realize he may have just screwed up big time.

Hades had heard that the Convocation had recently approved of ‘lesser’ beings to be Created and put into the wilds, albeit, very far from the city. Of course there were perks to your parents being so high up in the Anyder… Not that he would tell them he overheard them sometimes.

Still, there was little to no reason that one such being - which, he was guessing was one - being this close to Amaurot. There was absolutely no way that the city would approve of them being this close, wouldn’t they? There had to be security measures, surely? 

But of course, Era would be the one to defy all reasoning and find one… It was mean to think it, but… It _was_ _Era._

He looked to Hythlodaeus, usually the diplomatic one of the three, and he seemed just as stumped and lost on what to say or do. Era was, oddly quiet, and remained kneeling in the grass - still gazing up at the frozen child. 

Hades gave his friend a gentle nudge with his aether, a simple; _ hey, you okay? _ And was promptly shoved back. He frowned, he already knew he had definitely upset Erastos, but… He didn’t _ mean _to. He was scared for him! 

“Era-”

“He was a _ baby _, guys. He wasn’t hurting me. The one time I wasn’t in danger and… And…” Erastos lifted his mask, rubbing at his eyes and sniffling. Normally, Erastos was a bit of an open book, but right now he was very, very carefully keeping his feelings under lock. His soul was tightly guarded. Very unlike him… Worse was the sniffling. He was trying his best not to show it, but they knew he was crying.

_ We made him cry?! Nooo… _ His heart _ sank _, Hythlodaeus seemed to be feeling the same, his shoulders slumped and he sighed loudly. 

“I know you were worried- trust me, I _ know. _I… I’m gonna stop running off from now on. I promise. But… What are we going to do about him?” Erastos stood up but still wouldn’t look at them, still facing the frozen child.

They would need one of the Guardians to come and undo the rod’s effect. There was no point saying it, even Erastos knew that. It was plainly obvious Erastos was asking what the story needed to be so they wouldn’t get into trouble.

Well, _ he _ wouldn’t get into trouble. Hades and Hythlodaeus may only get a stern talking to for letting him out of their sight - but the real problem was, as always, Erastos running off when he shouldn’t. 

This time he definitely ran into something he _ really _wasn’t supposed to, but what would happen to the child after this? Hades knew this wasn’t something that was going to go over easily, and they would most definitely be kept in the dark, being children. 

He pitied the child. And he wasn’t exactly sure what he felt for Erastos right now. Sympathy mostly, he hadn’t intended to make him upset - but he knew Erastos would be wound up about this for quite a while. As much as he loved his friend, he was definitely a bit… passionate. And the admission that he would stop running off - that this was what finally broke that wondrous feeling of adventure he always carried with him? It worried him. 

Sure, he hated chasing him around, but to see his friend always filled to the brim with joy at exploring their world? It made it all worth it. To see that feeling quashed now… It hurt. 

Hythlodaeus came up with a plausible story - that they were exploring _ together _and Erastos had felt something nearby - and they froze the stray and then ran off to find the Guardians. Believable enough and hopefully they’d buy it, with Erastos still kinda running off but not too far to find something. It was what he always did and hopefully the Guardians would at the very least, realize he done it because it was something very unusual for once. They would hopefully praise the other two and give Erastos a good pat on the back for behaving. 

Even if it was an utter lie, of course.

And again, this was completely abnormal. What could they do? Punish them? For what?

In the end, it worked and the situation was handed over to the Akademia Anyder’s security forces. Erastos was asked some questions back in the city; how did you find the child? What was he doing when you found him? Did you talk to it? 

He lied through most of it, but that was their little secret between the three of them. 

Wasn’t going to be the last, either.   
  



	4. WoL + Emet-Selch (Remember)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mini Fix-It AU for the SHB ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been tinfoil-hat'ing about yoinking Hades from the Lifestream - here's one way we could do it. 
> 
> Also I took a bunch of sad screenshots and this came from it...
> 
> Anyway this is going to be like 2-3 chapters at most. Enjoy~

_ He was free. _

He made a mistake.

_ There was no pain. _

There should have been another way.

_ A hand instinctively swept over the wound, a warm tingling settled over the borders of it, and his gloved finger tips brush against the aether rapidly leaking from it. Still, it did not hurt. A mercy for that, then. He pulls the dark hood back, shaking his hair free and gazes at the victor. Erastos' fragment looks to him with sad eyes, tears flowing from his cheeks and lips trembling. The Warrior takes a shaky step forward, an arm reaching out to his own dying form. He wouldn't last long enough to indulge in this. _

There wasn't enough time. Not enough time to tell him what he now remembers. Who he sees in front of him, finally. "Hades…?" His name comes with such familiar ease to his lips. 

_ The blow was fatal. He wouldn’t have enough time to say all the things he needed to say. Before he forgot. Before the Lifestream whisked him away, his soul broken into neat pieces. Sundered, just like the piece looking at him now. _

His body had a ghastly blue hole right through his abdomen. A hole that he put there. With it, he saw what an utter mess he had made of Hades’ soul. The all too familiar soul. The soul he loved with all his heart. Hades’ beautiful, vibrant soul - the rich purples and pale golds fading away before his very eyes. 

_ He watches the fragment of Erastos' soul reach to him. That familiar color - a shining silver that he once said he would never forget. But he would, now. He hopes that, maybe in another life, they will find each other again. "Remember." His final plea. The beautiful silver dims, and he cannot tell if it is because his life essence is almost gone from the waking world, or if the burst of Erastos’ aether finally has run its course. A pleasant, final thing to see, at least. A good memory to die with. _

He breaks the distance between them, pulling Hades into his arms. Their bodies are different than should have been familiar to him, "No no no no… Hades-” there simply were not enough words to tell him what he felt now. But he remembers a way he can.

_ “Remember us…” A gentle brush of cool silver against his dying gold soul, weak and clumsy, as he looks to the fragment above him - around him. He cries, his eyes shut tight as sobs wrack his body against him. Oh, Era… _

(I love you, Hades. I love you. I love you-)

_ He will hear him. A good memory to die with... _

_ (Remember that we once lived…) _

(I remember.)

* * *

They call his name _ (the wrong one) _ . Alphinaud announces that Emet-Selch is no more. _ (I killed him! We made a mistake! He loved me and I loved him...) _ He does not speak _ (can't speak) _ . An ugly anger grows as he kneels against the cold, crystalline floor. The remnants of Amaurot surrounding him; laid bare as the magics of the Architect begin to fade. _ (The remains of their home… They didn’t know. Couldn’t know…) _

Y'shtola announces his aether has returned to normal, the corruption gone _ (and what of his soul…?) _

Emet-Selch was the Darkness to his Light _ (he was the Light of my life, once), _ it must have been drained during their battle _ (the aether had boiled within him to a tipping point - survival was all he could think of. Like a frightened animal he fought for the right to live, to break free from the Light raging within his all too fragile soul.) _

_ (He didn't even see who he truly fought. It was Dark. It had to die. Destroy the Darkness, bring Light's dawn to the world. Warrior of Light. Weapon of Light.) _

He can't tell them. They wouldn't understand. Part of him worried what Thancred would say if he were to launch into what he was truly feeling right now. _ (“Ascians are a blight upon the world. Servants of Darkness who could not be suffered to live.”) _

But he knew. _ (They were his people, once. His family. Friends. His love.) _

And he knew where he had to go next.

* * *

The Scions couldn’t follow him back to the Source, for which he was thankful for. They wouldn’t approve. No one would, really. Not after what Emet-Selch left as his legacy to them. 

_ (Hades was different.) _

The cave hasn’t changed much. Still cold, damp, and inhabited by _ frogs. _Magical ones, to boot. They let him in without fuss - they remember who he is. Everyone does.

“Master Matoya?” He calls, his voice echoing in the cave. A started gasp greets him as he closes the door behind him, the old woman making her way over to him. 

“Oh, what a surprise! You ever so rarely visit me. I was told of you and your Scion friends going to the First, you know…. I expect a visit from her when she returns!” She ushers him over to the only table within the cave, and motions for him to sit. 

Matoya had been incredibly sharp tongued when there was a crowd, but she was a gentle soul underneath all that bluster. He bites back the urge to launch straight into what he was here for, trying to indulge the lonely woman for a bit with some stories of the First. Even with the anticipation clawing its way up his throat, he tries his best.

He tells her of Y’shtola’s work with the Night’s Blessed, to which she beams. He speaks of Urianger and the pixies, and she laughs. So goes the rest of the tales of the Scions. She asks him of the people they had met and he goes through the list of names, until there is one left that he has not mentioned. He pauses.

She catches him, smirking underneath the ridiculously large hat, her tone playfully accusative, “Out with it, boy. Tell me why you came here - you’re not the chatty type.” 

She wasn’t _ wrong… _

“I need to enter the Anti-Tower again. And… Borrow your Crystal.” He says flatly, head drooping low in shame.

“And whatever for? Did you leave out Y’shtola getting caught up in that awful place again?” 

He _ had _ actually left _ that _ part out and wasn’t about to tell her….

“I…”

“Come on, boy. Cat got your tongue? Out with it!” 

He tells her _ everything. _

* * *

** _“Hear…”_ **

_ Death was… loud. _

** _“Feel…”_ **

_ Death was… Soothing. Calming. Fragments pulled together, pieces of him - and took form. _

** _“Think…”_ **

_ He opened his eyes. _

_ Amidst an aetherial sea was Hydaelyn, he floats before her, aglow with Her Light. _

** _“Mine Champion hath long laboured to undo the deeds of Zodiark’s minions…” _ **

_ He nearly scoffs at that, too drained to come up with some sarcastic quip at how much of an expert Erevard was at that. He knew he would pass through Her domain - tethered to the Lifestream as She was, but this…. He did not expect Her to speak to him. _

** _“Thou have been cleansed of Zodiark’s Will by him… Enough that I may usher you into a new life, unburdened by your Dark master’s Will.” _ **

_ He didn’t think he was going to get lectured before She wiped away his memories; why couldn’t She let him die peacefully? _

_ He had willingly summoned Zodiark, those all too many years ago. Perhaps if he had known the consequences then, he may not have done it. But Hydaelyn…. Hydaelyn was not any less a Primal than He is. Did she want to claim him, now? _

** _“Mine Champion hath asked of me a Blessing….” _ **

_ He finds his voice, finally. “And for what?” Why did he need to know this? _

_ If a giant Crystal was capable of being smug, he would never know, but he got the feeling She was most definitely skirting it, _ ** _“He hath asked of me to spare You.”_ **

_ Gold eyes widen, that Erevard would ask of Her for his soul… _

_ But he remembers his final words, spoken through the Bond they yet shared, finally tapped into once again as the memory finally surfaced. _

“I remember.”

_ He had died full ready to rest after the millennia of dutiful servitude under Zodiark. Finally ready to let go of everything he had kept locked away in his heart - after finally seeing Erastos one last time. _

_ And now he was being given a second chance. A second chance he didn’t deserve after all the horrors he had inflicted upon the world… _

_ And yet… Erevard had asked for him. _

_ “Take me.” _

** _ “I will usher thine soul unto the aetherial sea of the Source. Mine Champion will search for thee, I hath not the strength to cast thee whole through the Lifestream… He will find you. Thou art my gift to mine beloved son...” _ **

_ The last thing he saw was a brilliant light. _

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here come dat boi


	5. WoL + Emet-Selch + Hythlodaeus (Remember p2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mini fix-it p2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been sitting on this for a while and it started getting really long, so I'm gonna chop it a bit. It'll be 3 parts instead of 2.

_ He quickly learned there was, in fact, a fate worse than death. _

_ Boredom. _

_ He'd been thrown into the Sharlayan Anti-Tower, only having known where he was as Lahabrea had spoken of it once or twice. It was a place where the aetherial and physical realm nearly met - a place the Sharlayans had tried to communicate with Hydaelyn. _

_ It was also utterly devoid of any life, safe from mammets and the occasional magical frog. _

_ Even he was not truly alive - a look down at his form showed he was merely a shade, barely enough left to really call himself a soul at this point. Perhaps it would come back…? She couldn't possibly leave him like this, not when he could help. There simply wasn't much to be done but wait and see, either. He could not call upon Her for answers, after all. No sense in panicking for something so far out of his control... _

_ But it got worse. _

_ He was bored. _

_ Days of roaming the halls, memorizing the tiles and patterns of the… strange, upside down castle. Counting how many little frogs he saw each lap of the horrible place. Anything to keep his mind occupied. _

_ Maybe this was a punishment. The damned floating rock had known he'd be stuck here - for who knows how long. Erevard lacked the Sight into the Lifestream, and how would he even know he was here of all places? What if he was looking in the wrong place? What if he was asking for someone else to find him? _

_ Who had pulled the cat out the first time she used Flow? Reckless thing she was, he could probably fish her out in his sleep - what could Erevard do? What _ would _ he do? Hydaelyn said he would find him, and then what? Ugh. _

_ He hated this. Hated how he had nothing to do - again - but let his mind wander. If he reigned it in and went back to counting frogs, maybe- _

_ "-ades!" _

_ A voice rang out, far away and barely heard, from inside the castle. It sounded like… _

_ "Hades! Hades!? I know you're here, you have to be! HADES!" _

_ The yelling was getting louder, clearer… Closer. _

_ ...Erevard? _

_ "Hades!" _

** _Finally._ **

* * *

  


It was rare for the Echo to launch him into something with absolutely no one around for it to latch on to. He'd figured _ that _ out pretty quickly, as it _ always _did that. 

Except when _ She _called him.

He never went to her, not really, at least. The only time he had forced it was because of Urianger telling him what to do - and part of why it worked must have been because of Ardbert and his friends.

Ardbert… The name was still giving him mixed reactions. On one hand, there was this… Eerie familiarity with it. Sure, he'd spoken to the owner of the name multiple times; both as friend _ and _ foe. But now it felt more akin to… _ one _ of his names. Ardbert. Just uttering it made his skin crawl, but also made his heart just slightly jump, as if someone were… well. As if someone were calling _ his name. _

He _ was _ Ardbert, just as Ardbert _ was _ part of him. 

Then it got more complicated.

During those awful moments of clarity after the battle with… Hades… He _ remembered _ a surprisingly heavy amount of memories. Sure, he didn't remember some things; like his favorite ice cream, or what a radio was (he hated that one, why give him the _ name _ of a thing but nothing else…) but he remembered the important bits.

He loved Hades. He had _ friends. _ Family. A ridiculously important, but loved job. He was much taller. His hair was a lot less greyed, once. And lastly: _ he had a different name. _

_ Erastos. _

Some of it had faded after what had to be some initial burst at the consensual Rejoining, but some _ stuck. _ The shade he had spoken to in the recreated Amaurot before the battle, Hythlodaeus, was that of his best friend. _ Their _ best friend - Hades and he both adored the man, he was like a brother to the both of them. _ That _ stuck. He remembered Elidibus, Lahabrea, and several of the others who must now be Sundered. Names that- _ titles _ , that Erevard had never heard, but _ Erastos _ knew like the back of his hand: his _ friends. _Coworkers, even.

Emmerololth, Pashtarot, Fandaniel… Hells, he remembered what _ Lahabrea _ looked like, and that he actually wasn't a raving lunatic once. 

_ Thinking _ that actually stung. Erevard had a terrible time with the Speaker, but Erastos had adored his company (sometimes, he liked to ramble). And there was still more to it, for Erastos had his own title: _ Remiel _ . They were friends _ and _coworkers, he had been the Fourteenth some of the shades had spoken of.

He remembered it.

It felt… _ cramped _ , in his head, for lack of a better word. While he was lucky the mixed memories weren't driving him _ actually _ crazy, he had to often slow down and sort them into piles. Sometimes memories of even _ Ardbert _ came in loud and clear, and he had to do his best to halt his line of thought. They weren't his. He wasn't feeling _ that _ comfortable with their… reunion. Ardbert had left a legacy as himself - he wouldn't delve into that, and he would remember Ardbert _ as _Ardbert if he could.

Nevertheless, he'd gone to the shade for help once the dust had cleared and he'd finally smothered the urge to throw the Scions off a cliff. They didn't know what they were saying to him, and he wasn't about to launch into it with them with how utterly wretched he'd felt. 

He was never one for celebrations, anyway. They went back to the Crystarium and he… wandered. 

The shade had, thankfully remained in the same spot. Though he had to ask why, to which the shade chuckled down at him, "Well, I have already witnessed something new happen here. Perhaps I wanted to see if it would happen twice."

"Ooo, careful Hyth. You're skirting the definition of _ insanity." _

The shade smiled, tilting his head to the side as he peered down at Erevard, "Hmm… One may say talking to ghosts is insane, but here we _ both _are. You… Look more like yourself. You remember, don't you?"

"Yeah. I'm… I'm sorry that I… I can't _ help _you here, can't I?"

"My friend… I have long been dead, there is no need to _ help _ me. I will fade away, again, once his magic fades."

_ His _being Hades.

They both looked away, the unspoken name of the man causing a sullen silence between the two of them. Erevard hadn't told Hythlodaeus what happened, but… He probably knew. 

"A visit every once in a while, however, would _ help. _ It is terribly boring here. _ " _

"Aye, I can do that, old friend." He smiles up at the shade, not mentioning that had been a given, anyway. It could take years before the city faded, he wouldn't dare miss the opportunity to speak with Hyth again. Especially with his all too mortal lifetime…

"Hyth…"

The shade turned to him, with another tilt of the head. Even though the mask obscured so much of the face, he could almost _ feel _the curious gaze underneath it. Once, long ago, he could even see it within the shape of the soul… 

“I need you to tell me everything you can about the Underworld.” 

No hesitation came from the shade, no questions as to why he had asked such a thing - just diving straight into telling him everything he could give. 

Hythlodaeus knew what he would want that information for, anyway. There was no need to voice it. 

So he’d gone to Matoya, gone to the one place he could ask for an audience with _ Her _ . The one who now ruled a realm that not even his people had authority over. He’d never asked Her for anything before, was always a dutiful little servant - never questioning Her orders to him, never going _ against _ Her… He’d earned this. More than earned it. Bled for it, suffered for it, nearly gave his _ soul _for it, under Her smothering Light. 

It was the same as before, the same little open area - minus the awful dolls he had to fight. They were long gone, and nothing had stopped his approach to the heart of the Tower. 

But this time, he knew exactly how to go to Her. _ Flow _had been a technique he was quite familiar with once, after all. He called on his Echo, and took the plunge into the aetherial sea - and found himself exactly where he wanted to go. 

** _“My Child…?” _ **

The _ Primal _ had never before sounded anything but _ motherly _ in the way She spoke, but today there was just a hint of concern in Her booming voice. She had not expected him to _ know _ what he knew now. No doubt she would be furious the _ evil Ascians _had filled his empty head with lies, but no…

“I remember, Hydaelyn.” 

Silence. Nothing but the soft chiming of crystal in the sea of aether, and the sound of his heart beating a tattoo in his chest. He knew what she was, knew he was tied to Her for… Forever. But he could do this, he _ would _do this. 

_ “As the Ascians must serve as instruments of Zodiark’s will, so too must others carry out the will of Hydaelyn.” _

What a sick joke his life turned out to be… 

Minfillia had spared Ardbert precisely to be _ used _ if something were to happen, and while he was grateful the man had essentially died with a smile upon his face, knowing his own world would be saved from the precipice of oblivion - he had not deserved such a fate. But that was what awaited him, too. How many lives had he tumbled through, living and dying for Her? _ Could _it end with him? He wanted to say yes. Wanted to stop this vicious cycle the shards of Erastos had been subjected to.

But for that to happen…

“I ask for one thing from you, dearest Mother.” He bites down on the urge to speak Her title with venom, keeps the bitterness locked away in the bottom of his heart, for now he only gave room to the one who had always held it. “I ask for Hades.”

Silence reigned still, until suddenly he found himself surrounded by a blinding light, his form essentially _ thrown _out of Her domain without a word, spiraling through the stream-

The Echo flared, and he found himself back in the Anti Tower, alone, Her voice ringing in the back of his mind: ** _“Find him.” _ **

So he was going to be on a wild goose chase, but She at least cooperated. Not the best outcome, but he’d get what he wanted. He’d run laps through the damned place, but found nothing, and resolved to try again at a later date.

Then he’d received another Echo flash one day, shortly after defeating the summoned Titan upon the First with his friends. They were trying to restore the shard to its former glory, using Eden to release the aspected aether back into the land, and it had been working for once, too. 

He was standing alone upon the… big sin-eater thing, and then the headache started, a split second of _ knowing _something was about to hit him, and then he saw-

_ He saw Hades. Or rather, his soul, wandering the halls of the Anti-Tower, looking entirely bored as he stared at the aetherial sea below one of blue glowing platforms into the tower. His body, while quite transparent, remained that of the Garlean Emperor’s, but… His hair, the same beautiful, shining white it once had been, and his eyes the brilliant gold they had once been as well. _

_ Hydaelyn was showing him where to find him, the how was up to him. _

And now he was _ here _ , again, shouting the man’s name, praying the owner would hear him - come running back to him. Would leap into his arms again, hale and whole, _ alive. _

It wasn’t that simple, sadly. 

Hydaelyn was weak, that much had been obvious to him since… Since he remembered becoming what he was. Warrior of Light. Shine his Light on all creation, because She was too weak to do it herself, blah blah blah. So naturally, She hadn’t the strength to throw Hades back out _ properly. _And Erevard lacked any sort of Sight into the aetherial - even Erastos had been lacking in such a gift. Both Hades and Hythlodaeus possessed the rare gift, but he did not. 

A damn shame one of them was little more than a shade in another world, and the other was _ currently tangled in that mess. _The thought of trying to drag the shade through had passed through his mind, but even his little knowledge that he had remembered of aetherial theory told him such a thing would be impossible. He’d only risk breaking the tether to the physical world the shade had faster, or even worse - snap it immediately. It was simply out of the question, so he needed to do it himself. 

So he was running through the place, screaming his name like a damned lunatic, hoping maybe _ something _would happen. He was partly grateful the only ones who could hear him were mammets, and maybe a few frog familiars. No one to actually judge him.

Well, except Hades, hopefully. But he could worry about being laughed at when he grabbed him out of there, because he _ would do it. _

Eventually.

  


* * *

  


_ Erevard was a bit of an idiot. A well-meaning one, probably, but an idiot. _

_ His idiot. _

_ While Hades had been utterly ecstatic to hear someone had finally entered this accursed area, Erevard obviously had not a single clue as to what he was doing. Shouting through the halls, whizzing right past him, and just… Oh, blessed Zodiark… _

_ If he wasn’t so exhausted at being stuck like this, he’d probably have a good laugh, but alas… _

_ He was much too weak to really do anything, being barely enough to constitute a soul at the moment. There may be a way to give him a little nudge, but he risked using what little aether he had to do it, and what if it did nothing? What if it launched him back into the Lifestream, or worse - evaporated what he was? _

_ Hades was not much of a gambling man, for the last time he took such a risk it ended with him being stuck in this exact situation. He gambled that Erevard would be able to contain the aether of the Lightwardens - and that had failed. But something had happened at the end, he had become more whole in soul, something unforeseen… A trump card, perhaps, hidden away until the last moment…? What had he missed? _

_ So many questions. So much time to make up for… _

_ If Erevard could do this, that is. _

_ There was a very real, very visceral moment where the thought had struck him, that he could remain like this forever if Erevard would fail to pull him through, adrift in the land between Her domain, not quite dead but not alive- _

_ But he shoved that out of his mind quickly. He could figure this out. He would figure this out, he was stronger, smarter- _

“Hades! Gimme a sign, _ something! Please!” _

_ Weeellll… _

_ Maybe he could afford a gentle nudge in the right direction, then... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	6. WoL + Emet-Selch (Remember p3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still a prisoner, but new faces join the search.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got incredibly.. INCREDIBLY long so I'm splitting it AGAIN. 
> 
> may add smut next chapter to this. Not sure. Been itching to write it though.
> 
> I also want to add this is personal HC territory + theories being tossed around. Huge shout-out to Cornvocation for the lovely theory-talk in there, they are definitely an inspiration to my writing. <3

_ He had poured all that he could into an act that he had performed countless times in a life long lost. A simple gesture, laced with a tender love he had freely given to the brilliant soul so many times before, so long ago. The gentlest of touches, a simple, soft greeting for the one person he had loved, still loves, and… _

_ It just wasn’t enough. _

_ Erevard had whizzed by him as if nothing happened, while Hades slumped down to the ground in half-exhaustion, half from the sheer weight of his defeat. Why hadn’t it worked? Was he too weak? Was Erevard blind to such a gesture? Still too fragmented to grasp onto such a magic? There was a brief, blessed moment where Hades had seen the vibrant soul of Erastos once again - a wonderful few seconds where their Bond sparked to life once more, and he had heard the voice of Erastos’ soul again. A beautiful, last memory he held on to as the Lifestream finally took him, his dying wish fulfilled, until… _

_ Until _ ** _Hydaelyn_ ** _ . _

_ What pretty little lies had She told Erevard of the Ascians, to have his fragments hate his former comrades so? Before Emet-Selch’s time with the Scions, the man harbored nothing but blind hate towards them. A chance that the man’s curiosity won over the words of his Mother, once Emet-Selch set to straightening the true story out for the Scions. But then the plan went awry. Erevard had not been strong enough to contain the Warden’s Light. At least, at first… And now they were here, after nothing short of a miracle happened. _

_ He remembered. _

_ The Warrior of Light was a selfless man, a trait always passed down no matter how washed-out the fragment was, and yet he had gone to ask of his Mother for a gift. Not any simple gift, but the life of an Ascian. The life of the one he had remembered, in their final moments on the First together… _

_ He’d been surprised when he first heard that, but in light of his current situation, he can’t help the bitter laugh that bubbles up his throat. How had that conversation gone, he wonders. _

_ Hydaelyn had not bestowed such a gift without a cost, never to be given freely. He was paying the price in this horrid half-existence She had given him, while Her Blessed child was running around the tower like a lunatic. _

_ There was a veritable mountain of choice words he had for that damned Primal, in a plethora of languages as well - but the thought died when he heard a frustrated yell nearby. Erevard had slid down a wall further down the corridor, his knees tucked together tightly against his chest. His arms wound around them, and another frustrated yell loosed itself from his throat as he threw his head back against the wall. _

_ Frustration was never a pretty sight in another person, and Hades couldn’t suppress the wince at the following angry shout the man loosed before his arms fell to the side limply, his eyes skyward and shut tight with a clenched jaw. _

_ It’s an utterly futile gesture, merely a selfish, pathetic comfort to him that he can’t truly indulge in the way he really needs right now - the way Erevard needs. But he does it all the same; slowly making his way over to the other man and sitting next to him, and even though they can’t feel one another, he leans as close as he can, nearly shoulder to shoulder. If Hades were to touch him, would he feel it, or would his ghostly figure merely slip through the living man…? _

_ “I know you’re here. I saw it with my Echo. I just…” He sighs heavily, a gauntleted hand reaching up to run through his messy hair. A habit he shared with his old self that the fragment had done quite often, he had noted on the First. “I don’t know how to get you back, Hades. I’m… I’m so sorry I… The Lightwarden aether…” A poorly bitten back laugh leaves him as his hand falls back to his side, and he leans forward, his hair falling over his eyes. “I don’t even know if you’re listening, but… I’m sorry. I’m so… so sorry, love…. I’m sorry ...” _

_ It was cruel. Beyond cruel, for what Hydaelyn had done to them. Cruel to not even grant him the ability to touch the one soul he had waited millenia for, had died for. Cruel that, as the tears began to flow from his bright blue eyes, and his body shook with quiet, broken sobs, Hades could only watch. The attempt utterly futile as his ghostly hand passed through Erevard's cheek, the offending tear falling lower and lower, and more only follow. Cruel that Erevard can't hear his whispered words of comfort - his confession of forgiveness, that Hades never blamed him. Could never hate him, had always loved him, and would still love him. _

_ It just wasn't enough… _

* * *

  
  


_ They fall into a routine of sorts. _

_ Well, something resembling one, anyway. _

_ Erevard visits each night - for how long, he does not know. The passage of time became muddled the longer he simply existed in this wretched state. Only knowing that he was due a visit by the soft moonlight above, his only view into the outside world a hole in the mountain above the Tower. Sometimes the visits must be hours long, where he falls asleep on a hastily thrown down bedroll within the innermost chambers of the Tower and leaves when the sun shines through outside. Others last minutes at best, a quick tale of something he is stuck doing for someone before he leaves again, and others… _

_ He walks with a heavy weariness, head low, armor and weapons stained with blood. The signs of battle, and he does not talk - only cleans his armor, sharpens his blade, or lance, whichever he had chosen that day in silence. Hades had seen the tired look he wears before, knows a raging tempest of silent fury lies beneath the calm, reticent exterior. Knows that, the man has come for the quiet company while the rage threatening to break out cools. He'd seen the very same habit in his past life, and seen it again upon the First. _

_ The Crystarium had suffered an attack from Vauthry. Sin Eaters swarmed the outlying outposts, hungrily devouring the few guards stationed there - and of course, the reinforcements. It was only with the Warrior of _ Darkness _ that the First's inhabitants repelled the attack, but not without great cost. _

_ He'd been watching from the shadows as nothing but an observer, both with the battle and the aftermath. Of course, he watched the Warrior in particular, carving his way through the horde of beasts. They were nothing to him, not even the larger, more intelligent eaters. And yet… He was but one man. There were casualties, there were many he had arrived to just seconds too late. A breath away from saving them from the killing blow, and others… Infected, the corrupted Aether already working its way through their body and soul. He had gone to many of them once the swarm had dispersed, offered them food or water. Small comforts before the Light overtook them, because it was all he could do for them now. _

_ He hadn't returned to the Crystarium with the Scions. Instead, he wandered the roads, eventually turning into the dense forest, still coated with the signs of battle. He wasn't a finesse fighter, with his heavy armor and greatsword. He had taken hits; an Eater had given him a new scar, over the right corner of his lip. It bled freely as he walked to a clearing and sat down at the base of a tree. He lay the sword down in the grass ahead of him, and raised a gauntleted hand to the fresh wound upon his lip, swiping at the blood running down his chin with his fingers, and then… _

_ He wept. Fists crashing into the ground as frustrated noises, yells, screams, snarls loosed themselves, again and again, with tears running down his cheeks. _

_ Emet-Selch watched, frozen, unsure of what to do. It was wrong of him to watch the man in such a private moment, wrong of him to have followed him and borne witness to this. Erevard didn't trust him. Didn't remember him. Wouldn't ever allow him to see this, he was an Ascian, afterall. _

_ With a heavy ache in his heart, he left. Erevard wouldn't even do this in front of the Scions, and even though Emet-Selch had briefly considered trying anyway, he had no right to take this from him. _

_ And now, Erevard comes to him with the same crushing doubt, the same self-loathing that hangs heavy upon his shoulders, and Hades can do nothing to help him. There is one person he shows this part of himself to, and he can give nothing in return. _

_ Not all of his visits are so terrible, at least. _

_ Hades learns of the other Scions - those who live at The Rising Stones in Mor Dhona, and those who work out 'in the field' as Erevard calls it. Names fly by, his excitement only grows as he gives out each. Arenvald, Riol, Hoary, Coultenet, and so many more that he begins losing track. He tells him of the people of the Crystarium aiding with the restoration of their world, even the people of Eulmore he had once mocked at the Ladder are dividing labour under the man who designed the massive Talos at Mt. Gulg, Chai-Nuzz. An impressive feat for such a tiny fragment, even Hades had to admit. And the stories continue, some grand and some merely simple acts of kindness… _

_ He talks of his home in the Mist, a modest cottage barely decorated and only holding the barest of necessities for living. Never truly a home to him, but the closest he has to one for himself. When he tires of wandering, that is where he goes. How he is hoping to fill it with more furniture, make it a real home eventually, once everything is over. Once Hades is with him. For now, Ishgard is a second home - where he visits House Fortemps, having been given the title of Knight to them a long time ago. Erevard talks of the previous Count, Lord Edmont, and how he had come to take refuge in the cold city so many years ago. How he had found a family, and even a lover, then how it had been taken away from him… Lahabrea and Igeyorhm had been responsible - this he knew, even without Erevard speaking of it. Does he blame them, or does he blame circumstance? Hades does not know. The man becomes pensive, then skips over the rest of the tale. To happier thoughts. _

_ He talks of going to Sharlaya one day so that the twins can see their family again. Maybe he could give the scholars there something to do, with what little Ancient knowledge he now remembers. Hades laughs, the man had never been the Scholarly type among their people - always the oddity with how he preferred physical work to debate and books. But it was… Adorable, almost, that he was trying. _

_ Sometimes he brings tools to craft simple objects, a bow, or some jewelry. Merely chatting away as he works. _

_ "You know, once I get you out of here, you need to tell me about this strange girl we found in Eden. Got a weird feeling about her. Oh, and another thing: do you think we could find some remnants of Amaurot on the Source? I'd love to see it, and since I can breathe underwater I could look for a while. Speaking of underwater, you ever been to the Ruby Sea? I have some friends there who taught me how to spearfish, not the easiest way to catch, but I think I got it down well enough. Oh, also-” _

_ He talks, and talks and talks. Rarely stopping, thoughts rather scattered as he jumps from story to story. Sentences always changing, and so very unlike how he was upon the First. Was the man like this with his Scion friends, or was this a side to him reserved only for these quiet moments between the two of them? Coming out of his shell, the silent, broody mask thrown away now that he wasn’t performing as Warrior of Light for the world. _

_ Hades learns much of the outside world this way. Such as the renewed civil war in Garlemald with the death of Varis. Erevard offers his sympathies, admitting he doesn’t know of their relationship. Vows vengeance anyway, upon Zenos, then apologizes, stammering about killing his great-grandson. Hades doesn’t want to delve into his complicated feelings about that. Not now, at least. _

_ The ongoing Restoration of Ishgard, the Scions reaching out to Sharlaya… Always with Erevard as the gear of change at the center - some days he comes bearing a pile of bundled materials for Ishgard, building some crude wooden planks or simply refining materials. Sometimes, he even cooks. Carefully bundling meals for the workers, and himself. As Architect, Hades can't help but beam with some measure of pride towards the man. Building hadn't ever come naturally to him, especially using aether for construction. Creation magic had been innate within each of their people so long ago, but Erastos was an oddity at best, always preferring to use his hands over snapping his fingers to Create. But he tries, without success, huffing to himself and complaining about some memory of watching Hades- no, ‘the most eminent Emet-Selch’ creating a new building for the city with a simple flick of his wrist. The teasing with his title had always mildly irritated him, but it was a lighthearted sort from Hythlodaeus and Erastos. It makes him smile now, to hear it again. _

_ It doesn’t last. His visits become sporadic, at best. _

_ At one point, Hades guesses a week has passed with nothing from the other man. An agonizing, slow week of absolutely nothing, until he comes, and not alone. Erevard walks much as he did when he comes from a battle, and there is a slight limp in his step as he drags his greatsword along the ground behind him. His face is bruised, and his upper lip stained with a bloody welt, as though he had bitten through it. He stops near the entrance of the Tower, falling to the ground on his knees, panting for only a moment. Something flickers nearby, a flash of aether, and Erevard whirls around - teeth bared as a familiar form manifests behind him. _

_ Hades recognizes this one, the white hair is much longer, pulled into a tail and a black cloth is tied over one eye. He does not wear the garb of a gunbreaker here upon the Source, but the familiar weapon is tied to his waist, alongside a small hand axe and dagger. _

_ Thancred. _

_ He wonders how the Scions have returned, or perhaps this wasn’t the same man? The way Erevard nearly snarls at the man is anything but welcoming. Hades had been under the assumption that the man could not manipulate aether, either. _

_ Erevard stands shakily, leaning on his sword. Thancred watches, crossing his arms over his chest, single eye narrowing. _

_ "You nearly refused to let the healers help you. You refuse to talk to us. You refuse even our company some days, and _ this _ is where you've been coming to almost every night?" He nearly yells, his angry voice carrying far through the cavern, "What is going on, Erevard?! We aren't stupid! We know you've been coming here, even Estinien saw you!" _

_ "He swore to secrecy." Erevard does not match the other man's shouts, but speaks low with a bitter venom to his words. Hades watches, and though he knows Erevard would never lash out against one of his own, Thancred crossed a line. _

_ "Secrecy doesn't matter! We're all worried sick about you, why are you coming here? You haven't been yourself since-" _

_ "You wouldn't understand! None of you!" _

_ The sudden shout causes a flinch from the Hyur, a step taken back from surprise. It is gone as quick as it comes, as Thancred pushes back angrily, "So help us understand! We care about you, Ere! What's going on?! Why can't you trust us?" _

_ Erevard only stares with a stunned, blank look on his face, as though he'd been physically slapped. Thancred's hardened expression falters, a look of hurt on his face for a brief moment. It changes to visible confusion, as Erevard leans forward, his hair falling over his face, laughter erupting from his mouth. The kind of crazed laugh that did not fit the man. The kind that set you on edge near the person doing it, entirely unnatural with nothing truly funny to provoke it. _

_ This was about to get ugly. _

_ "Trust you? Trust you! What a fucking _ ** _joke_ ** _ , Cred!" _

_ Hades is almost glad the two can't see him, this was... This was the mask being ripped off without any silent preparation from the Warrior - hastily torn off and cast away to reveal the broken mess underneath. He doesn't envy Thancred in this moment, maybe the man even deserved it, but Erevard… _

_ "What did trusting all of you earn me, hmm?" His head snaps up, and he is nothing short of furious. "In Rak'tika, did you know I _ ** _heard_ ** _ everything Urianger and Shtola were keeping from me? How monstrous my aether was becoming under the pressure of the Warden's Light? They were hiding it from me, Cred. Remember that? She thought I was an _ ** _Eater_ ** _ , Cred." _

_ Hades remembers what it looked like. He had called him _ ** _Eater_ ** _ mockingly at Mt. Gulg, as the sky above filled again with Light - _ ** _Erevard's Light -_ ** _ as the man had begun to turn on the ground below. _

_ "...I remember." _

_ "And then Raha had Urianger lie to us. Should I trust him, too? Trust him after the grand plan to save _ ** _me _ ** _ was to kill himself? Let's keep Erevard in the dark! He doesn't need to know his _ ** _friends _ ** _ are going to die for him! Let him run around and lap up all that aether - and just before he turns into a gods damned _ ** _MONSTER_ ** _ … We'll just _ ** _die _ ** _ for him! Let's not warn him or anything! And what of the girl from Eden, hmm? You are just as guilty as the rest!" _

_ "It was for your own good! What if you-" _

_ "And there it is, Cred! For my own good. Keep me stupid and blind to the truth, just like _ ** _Hydaelyn!"_ **

_ "Erevard, you can't tell me that the Ascian-" _

_ "Don't you _ ** _dare_ ** _ ." _

_ "No, you haven't been the same since _ ** _him. _ ** _ He did something to you, didn't he? We're not stupid, Ere! We saw the look on your face after we killed the bastar-" _

_ Thancred doesn't finish the word, Erevard had launched himself at the man. His Dark Knight garb was gone, replaced in a brilliant flash of aether with that of a Monk, his fist colliding with the Hyur's rapidly drawn gunblade, pulled up defensively for the blow. Erevard is fast, twisting his body and bringing his leg up as his fist retracts, towards Thancred's ribcage. He blocks it again, almost too slow as a shield shimmers in place - a cartridge falls to the floor with a loud clink. "Erevar-!" _

_ The Warrior does not relent, does not give Thancred the chance to speak under a flurry of blows. The gunblade is keeping up, just barely. Hades doesn't need aetheric sight to see Erevard was not in any shape to fight, but he presses the assault - the man was a stubborn one, and pushing limits was merely what he did. The attack was entirely unexpected as well, but the Hyur had not fled yet, nor had he shown any signs of stopping. Perhaps this was something they had done before, or did the gunblade realize Erevard had steam to blow off? _

_ Grunts and shouts echo within the cavern, the sounds of their duel follow; cartridges used, the occasional blast from them. Erevard's aether, like focused gales whip the air around them. Thancred's shields shattering against each heavy blow, only to shimmer back into place again for the next attack. Minutes pass, their dance continuing, blow after blow after blow traded, some from Thancred, most from Erevard as finally they part, both of the men’s labored breaths the only sounds now as they both shakily stand across from one another. The two are nothing short of exhausted, but it was Erevard who came to the cave in worse shape, and Thancred breaks the silence first, holstering his gunblade and inhaling deep before he speaks. _

_ “Are you quite done? You need to go back to the healers-” _

_ “ _ ** _Look at me_ ** _ , Thancred.” _

_ Erevard straightens, standing tall but still breathing loud as he fights against exhaustion. One arm rises, his hand falling in front of his face, a familiar gesture- _

_ A sight Hades had not seen in millenia comes before him, a soft gasp from both he and the Hyur follow as the hand falls to Erevard's side. The lost, familiar Sigil ignites over his face, flickering softly as his aether must be too low to properly maintain it, but it holds. Red and bright and in its rightful place once again. _

_ But how…? _

_ Thancred goes from bewildered to angry, the sheathed weapon back in his hands as he takes a defensive position, and Hades almost laughs at the sheer audacity of the Hyur, if he wasn’t just as confused. How did Erevard…? _

_ “I should’ve known. I SHOULD’VE KNOWN! Which are you? Where is Erevard?!” Thancred snarls, pure anger over his shouted words. _

_ Erevard remains still as a statue, expression utterly neutral as he looks down at the Gunblade, his friend. He shakes his head, almost sadly. “Who do you think I am, Thancred?” _

_ “No… No no no _ ** _no…_ ** _ Damned Ascians!” _

_ “Thancred…” He sighs, loud, shaking his head before speaking softly, voice low. “When we were on the First, do you remember what the shades were saying in the recreated Amaurot?” _  
  


_ The Hyur doesn’t answer, eyes narrowing as his grip tightens on the hilt of his weapon. _

_ “The Fourteenth abandoned their seat. The Convocation was left with a vacant seat. Thirteen, instead of Fourteen. There are Thirteen now, among the Ascians. I can tell you each of their titles, but I am not one of them. Do you know who I am, Thancred?” _

_ He doesn’t answer, his face drains of anger, of everything. Eyes widen, and lips part - hurt and realization blend together, finally. Hades smiles. _

_ “My title was Remiel, the lost Fourteenth of the Convocation of Amaurot. Summoner of Hydaelyn, the one who Sundered the world. There is one person who knows my true name, and I will do anything to reclaim him.” The Sigil dissipates with a flourish of his hand, and his head hangs low as he speaks, “I will not destroy anymore of the _ ** _Ascians_ ** _ , Cred. I remember them as they were… Before… Before the Sundering. Before Zodiark.” _

_ He huffs a low, amused sound. “Elidibus made a mistake, quite unlike him, really. I… I wanted to come here after the initial burst, see if I could do something, but…” _

_ Thancred’s eyes narrow, “Is that why you avoided the healers?” _

_ “Aye. All the luck that gave me though, eh?” _

_ “...You stubborn mule.” Thancred shakes his head, sheathing the blade once more. Resignation and realization painting his features, his brow knit together and lips pressed together thinly as he looks up at Erevard - at Remiel, perhaps? _

_ “Was always shit at knowing my limits, but I digress… No more killing Ascians. Elidibus must be desperate if he thought sending one of my shards after me was a good idea.” _

_ “Shards? How did you-” _

_ “Cred, what do you think happened when I killed them? That burst of Light?” _

_ “Ere…?” _

_ Burst of Light…? _

_ Erevard turns, a tender smile on his face as he looks towards the Tower, past Hades standing next to him. “Back on the First, I had a Shard of mine following me. None of you ever saw him, he was barely more than a shade himself. Do you remember the Warriors that had come from the First, to the Source? Minfillia kept him around as a shade, to... Rejoin with me, when the time was right, I suppose.” A pause before he speaks again, his eyes shut tight, brow knit together, “A Hero of the First, Ardbert.” _

_ A shade. A fragment, the one Elidibus had found. Rejoined… The Light that he had seen, then… _

_ He was one step closer to becoming whole. A Rejoining happened before his very eyes, utterly oblivious to a fragment near him…! _

_ “I wanted to keep it a secret, you see. Remembering wasn’t easy, not after… Not after what I did to Emet-Selch.” _

_ “He tried to kill you, Erevard. He wanted you to become a monster.” _

_ “Aye, cause a Calamity and all that, I know. I assume my soul would return to the Lifestream, after. He gets his Calamity, and I would be reborn anew, a little bit closer to being whole. But he tried. He really tried. And I… I loved him once, Cred.” He huffs, amused, “We’ll talk about it when we get there, anyway. He's not tempered anymore, and he's… Here, somewhere.” _

_ Thancred remains silent, eyes downcast and looking away, a frown on his face. _

_ “It’s selfish, isn’t it? That I asked Hydaelyn for his soul. To give him back to me. But She did, and he’s _ ** _here_ ** _ . I have to bring him back, but I don’t know how… I spoke to the shade of Hyth in the recreated Amaurot. The only sentient shade, a friend of ours from… Before. Another secret I wanted to keep.” He laughs, softly, almost nervous, as a hand rakes through his messy hair. “I’m useless at this, Thancred. But I hoped with another shard pulled to me, I could maybe see…” _

_ Hades stares, a knot of emotions tugging in all directions. There was so much to unpack. So many more old questions finally had answers, but new ones took their place. Elidibus must have been desperate, or was he planning something…? And Hythlodaeus was… a sentient shade? He’d missed that, too. What else had he missed? How much had passed under his very nose, oblivious to a fragment and Hythlodaeus and what else? _

_ “No more killing Ascians. I plan to untemper them, find a way to end this once and for all. The souls trapped within Zodiark must be freed, and Hydaelyn… I need to talk to them, Thancred. And I need them to get Emet back. I have an idea with who to start with.” _

_ “Who?” _

_ He grimaces, biting down on the corner of his lip with the new scar. “You won’t like this.” _

_ “I don’t like any of this, Ere. Remiel? I really, really don’t. What could possibly make it worse at this point?” _

_ “Ere is fine, and I know where to find Lahabrea.” The smile he wears is nothing short of amused, one brow shoots up with the corner of his mouth as Thancred’s reaction follows. _

_ The Hyur groans loudly, his hands flying to his face, “...Why did I open my mouth?” _

* * *

  
  


_ Though he was amused at the prospect of Thancred having found out his Warrior of Light was an Ascian, there was just so much information to sort through with all the revelations Erevard had piled on to the both of them. _

_ The pair left shortly after Thancred had to be convinced Lahabrea _ ** _probably _ ** _ won't be crazy. Probably won't be tempered, and that could be rectified if he was, and he probably will happily join them. A mountain of 'probably' later and Thancred gave up - stating that something would 'probably' go wrong anyway and they would just deal with it, but he _ ** _trusted_ ** _ Erevard for now. _

_ Erevard had never stated where he would find Lahabrea, who by all rights should be gone, nor what untempering entailed. The tempering… It should have been impossible, and yet… Hades had not felt even a shred of Zodiark within him. He had recognized that upon waking up, but thought it was due to the abysmal state his soul was currently in. But, perhaps… Perhaps he truly was no longer bound by Zodiark? The Light to his Dark, banished under the radiant assault, a hole through the core of his soul… _

_ Voices echo through the cavern, loud but too incoherent, and with the promise of something finally happening, he races to the source. How long had it been this time? Days, for sure. He had seen moonlight a few times, but refused to put it to a count. Ignorance, he found, simply felt better. Counting the minutes, the hours, the days only made it feel longer. _

_ And today was a special visit, his breath catching as he sees exactly who has come. _

_ Erevard comes clad in dark robes, they flow long and almost a little too wide over his form, his hands clad in a matching black, and loud heeled shoes clatter against the crystalline floor with each step. A hood laid down, over the back of his neck, and an all too familiar mask hangs loosely over his head. Red, with a single stripe of white in a downward crescent over the eyes, spots in the shapes of tears below, with downcast, almond shaped black eyes. _

_ Next to him walks a similar sight, but with the adornments of a disciple of Zodiark. The mask this one wears is neatly over their face, and it too is familiar. _

_ Lahabrea. _

_ Hades stands still as a statue, a chorus of quiet _ ** _hows _ ** _ tumbling out of his lips as they approach, chatting away as they walk together. _

_ "...-ping you can see something. I'm utterly useless, I'm afraid." Erevard reaches behind the back of his head, scratching nervously while smiling sheepishly down at the Speaker. Hades can't believe what he's seeing, but Lahabrea's thinned lips gives him the indication the man is frowning up at the other. _

_"You wake me up then drag me out here, hoping I can see him, and again - I repeat, _**_immediately_** **_after _**_waking me up, _**_without_**_ rest-"_

_ Erevard's smile only widens, while Lahabrea groans, loudly. They are coming closer, still walking together, closer and closer towards him. _

_ "M'sorry, I just-" _

_ Lahabrea raises a hand in interruption, "Stop." _

_ Erevard huffs, while Lahabrea tilts his head to the side, looking around the area. There simply isn't much floor to this part of the cavern - they're very much outside of the Tower now, and the only way was forward. What was he looking at? _

_ "Well?" _

_ The Speaker hushes him, clawed fingers now rapping at his chin as his gaze twists and turns, before he settles on the way forward. _

_ On Hades. _

_ One corner of his mouth tugs upwards, before he makes an amused sound deep in his throat, "What a mess you've made of yourself, my friend." _

_ Hades laughs. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He will be rescued I promise


	7. WoL + Emet-Selch (Repose)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be angst into smut but it got horrifically long so I'm gonna snip it into parts. Again. 
> 
> This happens pre-Ladder cutscene. Next chapter of this short will be Ladder.

It was a rare moment for the Warrior. 

True, he wasn’t that well acquainted with the man, having only joined the ‘crew’ as Erevard so ridiculously put it over a month ago, but he could tell already this was out of the ordinary for him. Self-care simply didn’t seem to be a practice for him, nor was anything about  _ stopping.  _ Always on the move, always with his head fixed forward, trudging through the world with a fiery determination to see a light at the end of a tunnel that… 

That he would never see.

Emet-Selch had not appeared to the Scions after the Lightwarden of Ahm Araeng. Something that they noted themselves upon leaving the den of the beast, expecting him to after the Qitana Ravel, apparently. 

There simply wasn’t any need. He saw what he needed to see from a distance, keen eyes fixated on the battle, anxiously awaiting the result. Breath held as the presence of Light in the sky vanished, torn down and condensed into a soul too small to carry such a weight. A soul that buckled under the tremendous pressure, incapable of holding together the corrupted aether without a cost. Cracks and holes in the washed out, insignificant remainder of the whole it had once been… 

Sundered. Too weak.  _ Disappointing. _

Oh, but he made  _ quite _ a show of holding it all together for his friends… The Warrior stands tall and defiant against the waning fabric of his soul, the usual stoic facade carefully in place as always. He couldn’t  _ scare  _ them, afterall. 

If he could not hold it… 

The Miqo’te woman knew. Urged him to  _ rest _ constantly - always earning her a restrained rebuttal. Always  _ I’m fine,  _ or  _ not yet. _ Too stubborn, resolute to forge ever onward. Emet-Selch dare not ask him why, he already had a good enough answer. 

It was simply in his nature, wasn’t it? 

But today the Warrior carries himself with a tired air to his slow steps. Shoulders low and head down, eyes half-shut and heavy gaze fixed at his feet. Not the confident stride he usually wears among the people, still held even when he retires to his rooms for the evening. 

Not tonight. 

Emet-Selch follows cloaked in shadow, curiosity piqued at the change in the routine. A change he knows must be the gnawing Light threatening to break free from the cage of his worn soul. Follows him into the safety of his private room, a recluse away from the prying eyes of everyone outside. A safe place to shed the mantle of Warrior, even if it was only for the night. 

It is not the first time he follows him this far, but it is the first time he pushes past the boundary of allowing him the privacy he is continuously denied. Unlike the Crystal Exarch and his near constant  _ watching _ , Emet-Selch did not intrude upon this time for the Warrior. 

Today was a bit different, and he catches a sight that, while he had not been given the rights to see, has him captivated. 

He does not watch the way the Warrior slowly strips himself of the heavy armor always adorning his frame, down to only his smalls - the garb of the Dark Knight, his body the shield he does not carry, clad in black and aether swaddled with Darkness - an irony for one under the name of  _ Warrior of Light _ , but fitting for this world’s Warrior of Darkness. Doesn’t pay attention to the way he sets each bulky piece down wearily, hands shaking and jaw clenched tight as he moves to the next, and the next and the next. He doesn’t stare at the scars marring the man’s ashen skin, how each must tell a tale of a battle overcome through pain and blood bled, doesn’t recognize the style he has chosen is the main culprit for the war-torn skin he hides. And he most definitely doesn’t watch the man amble to the tub in the corner of the room - an oversized thing even too big for the massive Elezen man - and sink into the water with a shuddering sigh of pain, his eyes shut tightly and lips pulled together when he finally settles against the wall, steam rising from the water only his head and neck stay above. 

No, Emet-Selch watches the tiny flicker of a pallid flame that is his soul dance beneath the blinding Light wrapping around his core. A sluggish ferocity to it, darting around the heart of him, nipping and testing his boundaries as the flame defensively flares with each curious attempt. Is he aware of that battle within? Does he feel each little pulse his soul gives to wade off that vicious Light inside, or is it merely instinct, a reflexive thing that the soul weathers, wearing down the body and mind on the outside? 

He wasn’t going to last. The plan was a failure from the beginning.  _ Approaching them _ had been a mistake, and he’d only set himself up for disappointment. He can already hear the scolding Elidibus would undoubtedly bore him with upon his return. A risky plan. Too small, too frail, simply:  _ not enough  _ are the words he tells himself, spinning on his heel, ready to rid himself of this depressing sight.

The splash of water, of movement, gives him pause. And then a sound-

Erevard  _ whistles.  _

Emet-Selch turns, slowly with surprise at the sudden call. He had told him in Rak’tika… 

_ “You do know how to whistle, don’t you, hero? Just put your lips together… and blow.”  _

Erevard remains completely still, his gaze on the ceiling above, only having propped himself a little higher in the water so his chest remains above now. A hand comes up to rub at his darkened eyes with a breathy sigh before he whistles  _ again _ , louder, more urgent. 

He stares fixedly for a moment, watching the Elezen look around the room, waiting for an answer that he wasn’t sure he wanted to give. The night was full of disappointments for him, surely, what would one more be in the pile? 

On the other hand, tonight was also a night of breaking the usual routine… 

Emet-Selch answers with a  _ snap _ announcing the shroud thrown away, still standing just before the doorway - watching the Warrior slump back into the water, relaxing his features with a low content hum.

It should  _ irk  _ him, and he has to play the part, exasperated already, "You are  _ very  _ loud, dear Hero. Shouldn't you be asleep at this hour?"

One bright blue eye opens, the pupil fixed on his own golden ones as a lazy smile settles upon his face, “Didn’t think you’d come, honestly.” Erevard inhales deep, rolling his shoulders in the water with a loud  _ pop _ noise as the stiff joints are worked in the quiet room. 

_He didn’t think he’d call. _The Warrior always came to _him, _not the other way around. “_And?”_ Should he add how he doesn’t have all night? Does Erevard? 

“Just wanted to talk.” 

A pause as he crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for more that doesn’t come. “Then _talk_.”

Erevard tilts his head in the direction of the nearby desk, towards the chair in particular, no doubt, pointing with his chin to it as he rolls his neck, another  _ pop  _ as Emet-Selch takes his seat nearby. 

Another deep, slow inhale followed with a heavy exhale from Erevard before he speaks again, “Back in the Ravel, you looked at me. Said I was  _ fighting fit. _ ” He laughs softly, though Emet-Selch fails to see anything warranting it, “And what do you see now?” 

A mess. A cracked, ugly thing ready to burst, nowhere near fit to hold the Light of the last Warden they will march to within the coming morning. The death of hope. Failure. A mistake. 

He hasn’t lied thus far, nor does he intend to now, and yet… “You are the  _ Warrior  _ of Light-”

“Y’shtola called me an Eater. Thought I was one, shortly after you disappeared on us in Rak’tika.” 

A prickling feeling of fear worms its way into his chest, that lump in his throat now firmly making its presence known with the sudden  _ gulp  _ he swallows thickly. He’d  _ seen that _ from the woman, not truly having abandoned them - still intent on  _ watching.  _

Erevard doesn’t move, isn’t looking  _ at _ him. His eyes remain shut tight, the utterly carefree look on his face as he holds himself against the wall with that faint smile still on his face betraying the sullen words he speaks. “Caught Uri and her talking about me, but I kept my mouth shut. Thought that, maybe it would pass. But…” His hand reaches up from the water again, rubbing at his throat softly, his eyes finally open again as he looks down at his legs, “I don’t think it will.” 

What does he expect him to say _ ? _ They are  _ not  _ friends, why is he telling him  _ this?  _ “And what makes you think that?” 

Erevard laughs that same foolish little laugh, his hand now raking through his disheveled mess of hair instead, “People who are dying do a lot of thinking.” 

Icy silence follows. Uncomfortable and unwelcome within the room, and he  _ stares  _ dumbly fighting to keep the neutral expression on his face, the practised one that he never lets fall off, make it stay on despite the realization of what the other man had just said. 

_ He knows.  _

And what is there  _ to do _ about it? Does he hope that the  _ Ascian  _ will snap away all of his problems? Save him, just as he did the cat earlier? 

_ Not him.  _ No saving him, because of who he was. What he was. An instrument in the end, a tool to be used,  _ a pawn _ simply to be used in the greater scheme in light of his failure in this one-

“I'm old, Emet-Selch. I'm not a spry young man like the rest of them. My  _ scars _ have scars. Aches that never go away, pain that I never escape. It follows me into the night and remains in the morning, and I  _ fight  _ through it. But I ask myself every night…" He pauses, bringing his hand back up to his face once more, turning it over and narrowing his eyes as he inspects the callouses and scars Emet-Selch can see from across the room, "What happens when I can't anymore?"

_ Then we win. A Calamity will befall the Source, and we take one step closer to our goal.  _

_ And you…  _

_ You will do it all over again, never knowing what you have lost, nor what you stand to reclaim. Who you were, what you once had, and the people who lost you…  _

He doesn't answer that, of course, and Erevard blessedly fills the silence with a low huff of amusement, "You don't need to answer that, we both know." 

Shouldn’t he be overjoyed?

He isn’t.

But there is still more. Erevard, usually the silent, stoic warrior has found a voice that he never uses, tongue loosened with words he can never speak to his  _ friends,  _ “You have to promise not to laugh at me for this next part.”

He doesn’t hide the genuine confusion that strikes him with that demand and has to ask, “Why?” 

The sad smile he wears slowly fades, replaced with a pensive look of pain. “It’s ridiculous, but…” 

“As  _ ridiculous  _ as what you shouted in Rak’tika?” The witty retort comes without a missed beat, and even though he had meant for it to sting, the man is clearly amused by it, a soft chuckle deep in his throat as he nods.

“Aye, possibly. Not my brightest moment there, wasn’t it?” 

It’s almost natural, tempting even, the way he feels the urge to nod along. To poke and prod some more at that incredulous proclamation the man had made in that moment of urgency. Here they were, surrounded by strange people with weapons pointed at their heads, and  _ what  _ does he shout? 

Should he admit that he had found it amusing, free to let loose the laugh he held down once clad in shadow? 

_ Never.  _ He shakes his head, wearing his best look of  _ disappointment.  _ The sorcerer of eld chiding the silly little mortal for his silly little words. 

“Anyways…” Erevard clears his throat, intent on moving on. “No laughing, promise.” 

He keeps a completely neutral tone, brows only slightly raised in anticipation. “Very well, go on, Hero.” 

“When you first appeared to us in the Crystarium… I felt something.” Teeth bite into his lip, a nervous tick he seemed to have. _One that carried over, _Emet-Selch notes, watching, waiting. “Didn’t understand it, still don’t. But it was like… A sort of little jolt. I turned around and I _saw you_, and something _clicked. _Like I was almost relieved that I looked.” He stops to look at him, eyes narrowed with a serious look on his face, “It made me angry, because I didn’t understand it. Especially after you announced yourself as an _Ascian._ I thought that maybe, I _knew _what you were before you even opened your mouth.” 

_ Impossible… _

“But it kept happening.”

Light blue eyes scan his figure, looking him up and down as his breath is held tight in his chest now, leaning into the edge of his seat without a thought to the mask slowly slipping - control over the situation gradually falling out of his hands as he  _ holds  _ on to the next words. 

This is something he had waited years for.

But he wasn't ready.. This was unexpected. He hadn’t  _ prepared _ for it. How did such a tiny thing grasp on to  _ that- _

“Each time I looked at you, it happened.” 

He pushed it away every single time, how did  _ he  _ feel it? How did he  _ know? _

“Again and again and again. I thought something was  _ wrong  _ with me.” 

_ Should it be wrong that he remembers this _ ? By all rights, a soul that fragmented should  _ not  _ be able to recognize such a thing. Is it  _ wrong  _ that he defies it? 

“I feel it even now, Emet-Selch. When I look at you, I have this feeling of…” 

His vessel’s heart pounds rapidly, breath slowly falling out of practised control with a jaw that he holds shut tight, almost painfully.  _ Don’t say it don’t say don’t say it,  _ a loop of frantic words as his mind races to put the mask back in place before  _ something  _ happens that he cannot control any longer. The plan is  _ gone.  _ Thrown to the wind. Erevard  _ failed.  _ This can’t  _ change  _ the Light slowly devouring him, that  _ will  _ devour him with the next Warden should he even get that far. 

But the Elezen stops. A slow shake of his head with another huffed noise of amusement as he settles back into the water, almost splayed against the wall in the hot tub, “I don’t know what it is.” 

_ Still not enough. _

He should laugh. He wants to cry. How close had he gotten?  _ How close? _ And still not enough.  _ Never  _ enough. Not until their work was complete. Not until the world was whole once more and the one he had lost given back his rightful form. This was a  _ shade. _ A fragmented piece. Broken. Imperfect.  _ Half  _ of his full potential. 

But… He was  _ so close… _

Another splash, and Erevard motions to the hot tub he remains perched in, palm outward in an offering to it, “S’enough room for both of us, I don’t care. You look as terrible as I feel right now.” 

He is struggling. 

A battle waging inside. Does he accept and see where this goes, or give up and go back to the shadows. To watch the rest of the play end in tragedy for the hero of this tale? The clock is ticking, and from Erevard will emerge a Sin Eater the likes of this Shard has never seen before, to usher in the next Calamity upon the Source. Another step closer to their goal that was all but secure now with the admittance from the Warrior himself - not that it was  _ needed _ , for even if the Miqo’te could see it with her own eyes, there was no doubt any Ascian would not be able to. 

One last look at the soul. The Light burning its way through, slowly approaching the center, held back only by thin strands of aether that held everything that made up  _ him _ . Sin Eaters were beasts of instinct. Mindless, driven by hunger and hunger only. Lacking individuality and higher thought. A truly pitiful existence.

_ So what does he want? _

“Well?” Erevard asks, one eye locked on him, waiting, watching, expectant. 

_ How close…? _

The coat he wears is a death trap of layers upon layers that he simply doesn’t care to untangle himself from. A simple snap is enough to disrobe, and a few careful steps follow towards the invitation offered. A hand, ungloved, tests the water. “It’s cold.” He says, flatly. 

Erevard looks down at it, then back up and shrugs. “Couldn’t feel it.” 

There isn’t even any steam left above. For a man so observant with the intricacies of the working of his soul, that he missed  _ that  _ detail is… 

So perfectly  _ predictable _ for him. 

Another snap rings out in the room, a simple spell to heat the water - though it surely wouldn’t  _ bother  _ him, what is the purpose of a hot tub if the water was not hot? Erevard tilts his head, almost confused as he watches Emet-Selch sink into the water across from him, and even though it is a wholly  _ mortal  _ indulgence, even he could not suppress the contented noise that rumbles in his throat when the hot water soothes his back and shoulders. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, merely soaking in the warmth of the water. Emet-Selch hadn’t laughed. Hadn’t said much of anything, really. Too stunned to formulate a proper witty retort served best to push him away, remind him of  _ Ascian and Warrior of Light.  _ Where they firmly stood on opposite sides, despite the olive branch held tentatively between them. 

He would have told him  _ everything  _ if he had held the Light. Pulled him to his side once more, the  _ truth  _ freely given, all that and more…

_ He isn’t enough. _

So he focuses on the steam rising from the water. His hair slowly dampening with it, sticking to his skin annoyingly. Each swipe with his hands only wetting it more. A glance at Erevard shows he’s taken a different approach, the  _ mop  _ he calls hair on his head an utter mess. 

“Thanks for listening, by the way.” 

Erevard breaks the void of silence, finally. Still with another soft smirk on his face, thumbs twiddling idly on his lap in the water. 

It should be heartwarming, but he has to ask, “Why tell this to me, and not your Scion friends?” 

The Elezen hisses sharply as he sits up, hands rubbing at his lower back as he readjusts himself, “I’ll admit it, it’s  _ safe. _ ”

“The  _ Ascian _ is safe to you?” Had the Light gone to his head? 

“Who are you going to tell? Elidibus? Your other Ascian friends?  _ Really?”  _ He grins up at him, “Oh  _ please  _ do go tell the Scions all that I have said, I would so adore to see their reactions. Maybe start with Thancred first?” 

The roll of his eyes sends Erevard into a hearty laugh, and the noise of disgust that follows only deepens it. Maybe he  _ should _ just leave. Or, “So you were intent on  _ using  _ me, is it? Dump all your little secrets on the Ascian, because he has no one to tell?” 

Erevard makes a mockery of being offended, gasp and all as his hand flies up to his chest, but as he opens his mouth and pauses, he snaps it shut immediately again and huffs annoyedly, “Maybe?” 

“How  _ terrible  _ of you.” 

“I think I’m allowed to do a bad thing or two before I die.”

It’s meant as a joke, an utterly poor one, by the way he says it, accentuated by a pathetic little laugh. But the way his eyes don’t meet his after it, the way he looks away with pain written over his features, his limbs tightening together into his form, teeth biting down over his lower lip and every other little movement he makes as the horrid silence blankets the room. A losing battle, as the first choked hiccup shakes his body, arms winding tighter and tighter over himself, legs tucked tight against his chest. 

He wasn’t going to watch this.

Emet-Selch stood suddenly, closing his eyes as he steps out of the water, snapping his skin and hair dry. Another to manifest his clothing once more before he retires to his own chamber, and without a glance to the sobbing mess behind him he manifests the dark portal that would take him there. 

“Go to sleep, you have a big day tomorrow, Hero.” Are his final words, leaving the broken little Warrior behind, another regret added to the ever growing pile he will carry until the end of his days. 

**Author's Note:**

> I was struggling with this piece for a while cause I felt it was TOO short but how bout I publish it anyway cause I really have no idea what else to add
> 
> Hope yall like it!


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